


Special Treatment

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Undertale (Video Game), underswap
Genre: (sort of implied) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Anger, Angst, Babybones (Undertale), Bigotry & Prejudice, Crying, Doubt, Embarrassment, Frustration, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mother-Son Relationship, Orphans, Unconventional Families, Unresolved Emotional Tension, school troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: A simple school assignment gives Papyrus grief. He isn't stupid, no matter what his teacher thinks. It's not that he doesn't understand, but this is a question he simply can't answer.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	Special Treatment

“ _I’m not your mother, sweetlings_.” That was one of the first things Muffet had specified when asking Sans and Papyrus to stay with her.

It was important to Papyrus that he keep the facts straight. Muffet was not their mother nor was she trying to become that. She was just someone he and Blue were staying with until they could get a house of their own. Papyrus had no idea how long that might take, but Blue seemed happy— _relieved_ —enough to settle in for a while. It was the first time those hard lines softened at the edges of Blue’s mouth, the lines that indicated he had been clenching his teeth to keep a smile on.

If Blue was genuinely happy here, Papyrus could be too, he thought. He thought, until he came to this point, tears trailing down flushed cheekbones as he crumpled his school assignment into a ball. Once it was small enough, he began mashing it between his palms, trying to flatten it. Looking at the accusatory blank lines on the worksheet only made his soul churn.

His teacher, a wiry old bird monster, had never seen a skeleton before him and his brother. She seemed to think that being a bonehead somehow made Papyrus “special” by default. She didn’t use “special” the way Blue did, to say he was unique and clever and interesting. In her mind, “special” meant “stupid.”

He understood the directions perfectly. He simply couldn’t follow them.

 _Respond to the writing prompt given below_.

_Are you more like your mom or your dad? How so?_

“How so?” How was he supposed to know that and so what? Why did it matter enough to be asked? Mocked by the confident scratching of his classmates’ pencils, he had stared at the prompt with a strange, sick flutter in his nonexistent stomach.

Sans had “raised” him, sort of; he had taken care of him during their travels but they weren’t alike. Muffet was not his mother and he couldn’t remember one before her. When he scrounged for a memory of a shadowed father, it lurked just out of his grasp, somewhere with the scent of smoke and chemicals. There was nothing to write down.

“You can’t hand in a blank piece of paper, Papyrus, and I don’t give _special_ treatment. The assignment is the same for the entire class,” the teacher sniffed, staring down her beak at him. “I’ve already explained it to you. If you need help, I suggest you ask your parents and bring it back properly tomorrow.”

At that moment Papyrus was hurt and frustrated enough for a number of rebuttals. Shouting out “My parents are dead!” would probably make her go cross-eyed with shock and embarrassment…with the unfortunate side effect of the entire class overhearing. Who knew how they would react? With that horrible image in mind, his body pitifully reverted to the wobbly jaw and wet eye sockets that made the other boys laugh at recess.

“If you need to cry, you can sit in the reading corner. Go back to your desk when you’re ready to focus and behave.”

He stayed in the reading corner for the rest of class and then bolted outside before she could catch him to get him in trouble. On their way back to Muffet’s, Blue was so busy describing his experience in the older class that he forgot to ask how Papyrus’ day went. It was better that way. He was _happy_. Papyrus’ laments would only bring him down.

Still he couldn’t help but wish that he had been given a moment to himself on that long, cold walk. He could have conveniently lost the assignment sheet by means of packing it into a snowball and throwing it as far as he could.

“Papyrus? What do you do, tucking yourself in back here? This is no place for afternoon naptime—Oh!” Muffet was apparently just as startled by Papyrus’ appearance as he was by hers; her keen eyes detected his tears instantly. It should have been a comfort that she rushed right over, crouching in front of him. “Dearie, whatever’s the matter? You’re not taking ill again, no?”

Of course. Of course she suspected _weakness_ on his part. Head bowed, he swallowed first so his voice wouldn’t break. “M’fine, it’s nothing.”

“Is nothing something to cry over?” Her hands on his shoulders made him flinch but she persisted, drawing him up for an easier hug. “Come, come, you tell me what for!”

“I don’t want to. S’nothing, it’s dumb and it doesn’t matter—”

She was speaking over him, perhaps thinking that he only needed some more particular convincing. “Everything matters in some way. Come, let’s go to the front for a pastry. Some milk and honey will cleanse it all away and we’ll—”

The soothing tone and gentle touch only coaxed the discord and doubts to roar up in his ribs. “No, it won’t! It won’t make anything better, it won’t _change_ anything!” he spat, writhing viciously away. “J-Just stop trying to be so nice to me! You’re not my mother!”

Why should she look so startled as he shoved past her arms? She had said it herself. No matter how nice she was, a mother she would never be.

No matter how much she cared as she picked up the wad of paper he had dropped in the small scuffle—No matter how her shoulders sank when she read it—No matter how her soul may ache on his behalf—it wouldn’t change a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if this is coherent, it's late night angst rambling ;w; I hope you enjoyed anyway


End file.
